Losing Oneself
by Chanty0
Summary: Demons from the past can still show its teeth today. Aramis is plagued by demons he thought he had fought and conquered. His denial drives him away from his brothers.
1. The demons

**First Musketeers story. English is not my frst language, sorry about that! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Porthos threw Aramis an disdainful look.

'You know what, I'm done with you.'

D'artagnan felt his chest tighten when he heard those word spoken.  
'Porthos, please.' He pleaded.

Porthos ignored him and let his eyes linger a little longer on the seemingly impassive face of the one he used to call his closest friend before he turned around and left.

Aramis clenched his fist and watched Porthos leave the garrison. As soon as Porthos was out of sight, he turned around and headed towards his chambers.

D'artagnan watched Porthos leave and looked back to see Aramis enter his chambers upstairs. He moved one of his hands through his hair as he sighed. With all the time he had spent with musketeers, he had never seen Porthos and Aramis at odd with each other. At least not to this degree. To see them like this was, well.. unpleasant would be an understatement. What he hadn't realized though, was that this was quite serious and he only realized that when he saw Aramis coming back down the stairs. With a bag over his shoulder.

It took D'artagnan a moment to understand what that might implicate. And as Aramis strolled passed, he called after him.  
'Aramis.'

When no answer came and Aramis kept going he understood he was being ignored.  
'Aramis!' He tried a bit louder.

Aramis kept walking.

D'artagnan looked back up to the balcony of captain quarters where Athos had watched everything unfold. Athos stood with an unreadable face, one hand on the railing and one arm in a sling.

After D'artagnan pleas with Porthos and then Aramis fell on deaf ears, he hoped Athos would listen.

'Athos.'

Athos' eyes still lay on the retreating back of Aramis. As soon as his eyes could no longer follow him, Athos silently turned around and headed into the captain quarters.

D'artagnan had always known which way was home and was rarely in need of direction.  
But as his home was scattered and not knowing if it could be fixed, his direction was off. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt truly lost.

* * *

 _Before  
_  
It had been a very long time since he was last visited by the visions and insomnia invoking nightmares, which made him relive some parts of his memories rather left forgotten on that god awful day. But he still carried the scars. Although the wounds to his mind had healed over, they still had the ability to call upon his insecurities and fears.

On a day of no consequence those scars had begun to itch. It was a snowy winters day. He felt an unease that had sunk into his mind and body that he could not shake off. It was not something he was unfamiliar with. It had happened to him sometimes over the past few years, more frequently the years closer to the trauma. These days it was quite rare.

But on that day something had triggered his unease and once that unease had settled in his bones it was almost impossible to get it out. It almost certainly was the snow and the cold combined with the dense forest they've been traveling through. It reminded him immensely the place he tried his hardest to forget.

Aramis had not told the others yet about that unsettling feeling for he didn't want them to worry about his state of mind. He had dealt with this before and preferably would do it alone again.

The four of them were traveling back to Paris after a mission to Reims. Aramis and his brothers were on their way home from delivering and retrieving documents pertaining information about a future coronation of the Dauphin. This was their second day back on the road since they had left Reims. The cold and the snow made it near impossible to travel at a decent speedsince they ahd to avoid the main roads.

'We make camp there.' Athos nodded his head towards a shallow cave in the distance. It would provide them with enough shelter from the snow and wind for the night.

The group agreed in silence. They rode on in a single file with Athos leading and D'artagnan closing.  
After spending countless nights on the road together, there was no need to assign tasks.  
D'artagnan looked after the horses, Aramis started a fire in the entrance to the cave while Porthos and Athos gathered more wood. Enough to keep the fire going through the night.  
Though there wouldn't be any warm food for them that night, but Aramis made sure they at least had a warm drink. Some hot water with honey. It wasn't much but he knew it was treat to have on the road.  
When they settled down and enjoyed their warm drink with bread and cheese Porthos broke the gloomy silence.

'Alright, I know were all cold and miserable but that doesn't mean our spirits have to be. You lot act like you've never been on the road in the snow.'

'You lot?,' D'artagnan questioned, 'I haven't heard you bursting into song today.'

'Though you have the voice of a bard my friend, I rather you didn't.' Athos' monotonous voice directed at Porthos.

This made D'artagnan raise his eyebrow and Porthos as well.  
'I mean to offence my friend, but your voice could attract some unwanted attention. Mainly stags defending their territory.'  
Porthos' laugh warmed the bones of his friends.

'We don't all have the glorious trained voice like a comte, my dear Porthos, one that would only attract beautiful women.' Armis cut in and made Athos smile.

'God, what I wouldn't give for a nice warm bed, preferably with a willing warm body of a beauty waiting for me.' Aramis mused to no one in particular.

'You and me both.' They looked at D'artagnan and understood who he meant.

After that Aramis grew quiet and tunes out his brothers voices. It all became a lulling background noise. He grew melancholy and felt a gloominess settle over him. The feeling he felt before settles over him telfold. He wasn't prepared to lose his sense just yet. Sleep would only welcome that feeling.

'I'll keep first watch.' Aramis announced.

Athos nodded at him while he drank the remainder of his honey and water mix.

'Fine by me.' Porthos pulled himself to his feet and gave Aramis a pat on the shoulder. He went over to his saddle bags, pulled out his bedroll and settled them inside the cave as a makeshift bed. After a few moments D'artagnan and Athos followed his lead and before long had settles down as well.

Aramis had offered to take the first watch for he knew that sleep wouldn't come for him this night. He had no intention of waking one of his brothers for the next watch. He sat with his back to the fire facing away from the cave and toward the forest stretched before him. This way his eyes we're adjusted to the dark without being tainted by the light emitted from the fire.  
His unease had grown too much but so far had gone unnoticed by his brothers for which he was glad.

A few hours had passed.  
From what he could see the sky was still dark and releasing countless snowflakes. Aramis had cleaned his gun twice, loaded it and would have got up to grab D'artagnans pistol were he not afraid of waking him. He wanted, no, needed something to keep his mind and hand busy. Otherwise his mind might start to wander to places he did not want to visit.

When he sat as still as he did watching the trees and the sky before him, he felt the cold creeping in. After a few hours, the fire behind his back was no longer sufficient enough to drive it away. He had wanted to place more wood on the fire but something had kept him seated. Thus the cold was the final push that made his mind, unwillingly, start to wander back to that day. He thought he was over it. Apparently he was wrong.

When looking out among the trees; he could almost imagine the small tents from Savoy crowding the open spaces. He could almost see the wind playing with the tent flaps. He could almost see dark cloaked figures entering the tents. He could almost hear the screams coming from the tents.  
He could see the snow turning red. He could feel wetness on his hands.

Aramis looked down at his hands which rested in his lap and saw droplets of red falling on them. Blood. .  
He felt his hand move of its own accord and wipe at the scar on his scalp. It came back bloodied.  
Panic started to rise in his stomach. He was there. He was back in the place which had haunted his nightmares for many years.

There was creaking in the snow; it made him look back up. The tents were gone, they were replaced with bodies all wearing the same uniform. His uniform.  
Aramis could barely contain a sob as he took in the sight before him. His mind was making him believe things that weren't real, letting him see thing that weren't there. Though he kept on telling himself that it wasn't real, he knew it was a losing battle. What he saw before him evoked every emotion he associated with that day. Mainly guilt and sorrow.

He felt another sob rake his body. 'No…' Aramis softly wailed.  
His eyes glanced at every face he could see. They had been friends and always brothers in arms. Now all those faces were frozen in death. The smell of rot came to him and the faces changed from recognizable to decaying corpses where crows had feasted upon. No longer in control of himself, Aramis was terrified and unable to stop this torture. Their eyeless, rotting faces slowly turned toward him and sought him out. They called out to him, asking for help, asking him why he left them, asking him to join them.

Dark cloaked figures separated from the trees and walked through the corpses towards him. Aramis just sat and stared at them coming closer awaiting the torture they would bring.  
The figure in the middle striding towards him, raised his arm and pointed a gun.  
There was a loud bang.  
Something happened to his upper right arm. Aramis turned his gaze towards his arm and saw blood creeping out of the hole in his thick leather coat. Then he felt pain.

Slowly but surely the pain took him out of his reverie, took him away from the forests of Savoy, back to the forests neat Paris. He had no idea how much time had passed and had not seen nor heard them getting up; his brothers were already engaged in combat. Aramis tried to get up quickly and draw his pistol when another gun went off. He looked to his right and saw Athos wavering and falling on a knee. The opponent Athos had been fighting tried to take advantage of this distraction and made to drive his sword through Athos' back. Aramis quickly fired and hit the man in his neck, taking him out.  
Aramis hurried towards Athos, sword in hand. Making sure to defend the wounded man from the danger he found him in.

While blocking an attack Aramis quickly scanned the area and counted their attackers. As far as he could see there were 5 attackers left. One with D'artagnan, two with Porthos, and the other two in front of him. He put up his sword, blocking another attack from the nearest opponents and kicked him in the chest making him stumble and fall to the ground. Aramis whirled around and parried a blow from the one left standing. He deftly unsheathed his main gauche and plunged it in the man stomach, twisting it for good measure. Figuring the remaining opponent would've gotten up by now, Aramis turned his attention back on him. Before he was prepared, his opponents sword nicked his side tearing through the leather and slicing his skin open. Aramis gritted his teeth but did not falter. The only thing on his mind at that moment was protecting Athos.

He was semi aware that the fighting behind him had stopped but there was no time to think about his brothers. All his focus was on the man in front of him. The man looked frightened. He nervously took a step backwards but quickly lunged forward trying to stab Aramis.  
Aramis easily blocked the attack and stepped sideways driving his dagger into the man's neck.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. His sword was ready to take on his next opponent until he realized it was Porthos who was making his way over to him. D'artagnan wiped his sword on one of the dead man pants and made sure all their attackers were dead.  
Athos had managed to get himself upright and clutched at his shoulder where his coat was stained red.

From a moment Aramis lost himself again when he saw Athos covered in blood sitting in the snow. He felt the same overwhelming sensation he had had before this fight had broken out. Fear and sorrow had stopped him from his normal instincts. He could hear the crows cawing and flapping their wings.

A hand on his painful arm pulled him back and drove the crows away.  
He blinked once. He blinked twice.  
And Porthos came into focus.  
'Aramis,' He spoke softly 'are you with me?'


	2. The aftermath

**For those who waited for this chapter, I'm terrily sorry! I'm not a consistent writer but I do hope that the next one won't take me as long as this one did. I still hope you enjoy this part! Remember, English isn't my first language, I hope it doesn't bother you too much!**

 **Enjoy!**  
_

' _Aramis,' he spoke softly 'are you with me?'_

It took him a few moments but Aramis nodded and focused on Athos. D'artagnan had moved behind him to help him stay upright.  
The steps he took towards the injured man were hesitant but he reached him. Kneeling besides him Aramis tried to pry Athos' hand away from the wound.  
'Let me see.'

After removing the hand, blood seeped out, but not as much as he feared. He moved his hand to backside of Athos' shoulder and back up to his collar bone. As soon as Aramis touched his collarbone, Athos let out a strangled cry.

'Judging by the sound you made, I'd say the bullet hit your collarbone, probably broke it.'  
Aramis felt around the wound some more. 'I can't find an exit wound.'  
He turned his attention to D'artagnan.  
'I'll need some boiling water and some clean cloth and see if you can find something big enough to make a sling out of."  
D'artagnan made sure Athos stayed upright and wordlessly complied.

'I'll just be getting my things. Use that time to prepare yourself, treating this wound won't be pleasant.'  
Aramis got up with some difficulty, to fetch his sewing kit but only made it a few paces before Porthos grabbed his arm.

'What happened, Aramis?'

Aramis didn't turn around, he didn't have the confidence to look at him, and shook off Porthos' hand.  
'Nothing.' Was all he replied.

Porthos wasn't about to let him go so easily and grabbed him a second time.  
'I don't believe you. What happened?'

'Nothing! I fell asleep.' Aramis finally dared to look Porthos in the eye for a short while he lied, before continuing on towards his saddle bags.

'You fell asleep.' Porthos followed him.

Aramis reached his bag tried to get it open, his hands were shaking.  
'Yes,' He bowed his head and sighed 'I fell asleep.'

'I don't believe you.'

It took a few tries but he got his bad open and took out his kit with the honey and reached for a bottle of wine.  
'Believe whatever you want Porthos.'  
Aramis started back towards a hunched over Athos.  
'Don't do this to me Aramis. Don't lie, not to me.' He said as Aramis walked by him.  
Aramis ignored him.

Porthos kept up with him when he noticed the hole and blood in Aramis' right upper arm.  
'You're hurt.'

'I'll be fine.'

'Don't give me that. You're shot.'

'I'm fine. Now will you let me tend to Athos?' They'd reached Athos who was staring up at them, pale as a sheet.  
Aramis turned around and faced Porthos, waiting for an answer. He wasn't ready to think about what had happened and what could have happened.

Porthos searched his face but said nothing and let Aramis kneel down beside their friend. He knelt down at Athos' other side. It was a hard task getting Athos out of his clothes without hurting him but they managed. They'd fed him the wine and used some to clean the wound.  
The cold wind made Athos shiver so Aramis and Porthos moved him closer to the now higher burning fire. His collarbone was stained red with still seeping blood and blue from the bruises that were forming.

Aramis thanked D'artagnan when he handed him the cup of boiling water in which he dropped his sewing tools. It nearly slipped from his blood covered hands, which he chose to ignore but knew his brothers had noticed.  
He gently laid Athos onto his back and poured some of the remaining wine over his hands, trying to rid his hands of his own fresh blood. Athos' pain creased eyes fell on the bloody hole in Aramis' right arm. He ignored the scrutiny and continued with the examination.

Feeling around the wound, Aramis found the bullet to be quite shallow. There was no need to make incisions; it could be dug out with his fingers.

'You know what comes now, are you ready?'

Athos focused his eyes on Aramis' face and nodded his consent. D'artagnan put a leather strip to Athos' his mouth and he bit down.  
Without another word Aramis moved his fingers in the wound and moved the bullet closer to the wound from which it entered. Athos clenched his jaw and let his head fall back while breathing harsh and loud through his nose. His was right hand squeezing Porthos' hand tightly.

It only took a few more tries before Aramis had a grip on the bullet. He searched the wound for dirt but found none and so poured another generous amount of alcohol over the wound.

'How you holding up?' Aramis asked Athos, shifting his gaze from the wound to his face.

'I'll… live...' Athos replied after spitting out the piece of leather which now had his teeth marks etched into it.

Aramis skillfully and swift fully stitched the wound while Athos had his eyes closed in pain. When he was done he sighed.  
'Bad thing is, your collarbone indeed is broken. This means no strenuous activities for a while. The good thing is, the bones are still in place which means no setting. You just need a few weeks rest.'  
He picked up the jar of honey and put a decent amount on Athos' wound hoping it would keep infection at bay. D'artagnan and Porthos helped Athos upright while Aramis bandaged the wound, pulled a clean shirt over Athos' head and made a sling for his arm out of the piece of fabric, which appeared to come from one of their attackers.

They gently eased Athos back towards the ground and covered him in a blanket. D'artagnan and Porthos stood up and headed over to their deceased attackers but when Aramis moved to stand up as well, Athos grabbed his arm causing Aramis to wince.  
Athos noticed this and grabbed his arm before he had time to move away.  
'Your arm, tend to it.'  
Aramis just nodded in reply.

While Porthos and D'artagnan were busy with the bodies to search for the reason of their attack, Aramis quietly took his sewing supplies and secluded himself a little away from the fire trying not to draw attention to himself. Ignoring the lightheadedness caused by blood loss, he tried to keep his mind occupied with removing his arm from his clothes. The events of the night were threatening to take over his thoughts.

He winced as he slowly tried to move his arm out of his doublet. As soon as it was free, he felt the blood seeping down his arm and not to mention the pain, that only moments ago was a dull ache. The adrenaline from the battle was ebbing away and giving back the pain it had numbed. Both his arm and his side were on fire.

Slowly but surely he set to work. He let his hand do the work while his mind started to drift. Aramis felt the quietness of his companions, while they searched pockets and pounches, it was tangible. He imagined they would be full of questions which he couldn't answer or didn't want to answer.  
At least not at the moment. And therefor he hadn't asked for their help. He felt ashamed of what had happened, that he had no control. His demons had caught up with him and they nearly costed someone's life. The vulnerability he felt was not one he wanted to share with them.

He finished the last stitch and looked at his messy work. His left handed stitches left much to be desired but it had stopped the bleeding.  
After putting some honey on the wound he quickly bandaged it and put his arm carefully back into his shirt and doublet. He was thankful that both Porthos and D'artagnan had been too busy searching the body's for them to notice his awkward stitching predicament, though he knew that Porthos would question him about his wound before long, seeing as he's quite perceptive and wouldn't forget something like a wound. At least not for long.

Aramis looked at the wound on his side and decided that it didn't need any medical attention. He was too tired anyway. It wasn't deep enough for stiches and looked clean enough.

Deciding to leave the two fit men to their searches Aramis got up, somewhat unsteady, and sat down next to their leader. Aramis wanted to make sure Athos was resting as he knew that tomorrow's ride would be an uncomfortable one for him. Athos had his eyes closed and his breathing seemed even so Aramis deduced that he had fallen asleep though you could never be sure with Athos.  
He let his eyes roam Athos' face and noticed that even with the orange glow of the fire, his face looked ashen. Aramis felt a whole range of emotions course through him. Anger, shame, fear, guilt.  
God, the guilt. The guilt was immense. He was familiar with guilt. It had been a silent companion ever since he had come back and the other twenty had not.  
His demons almost cost him Athos' life. He felt guilty that his incapability of controlling said demons had dragged his brothers into this mess. It was his cross to bear and his alone.  
Aramis took a deep breath and decided he would deal with it all on the morrow if his mind would allow. He stood up and laid himself down next to the fire with his back towards it's radiating heat, facing away from his companions

Sleep wouldn't come for him tonight, he knew, but for his own sanity and to avoid questions, he pretended to sleep and hoped that his brothers would leave him alone until dawn.


End file.
